Free Thief of Hearts by L.H. Cosway

wasting.”
    He didn’t respond, just kept on staring at me in a heated way that made my shirt feel too tight. The tension had me rambling. “I mean, honestly, we’re basically the same age. It’s not like there’s even a taboo. This isn’t high school. You’re not a seventeen-year-old girl and I’m not an attractive twenty-something male history teacher.”
    “No, I’m a thirty-year-old ex-convict and you’re an attractive twenty-something adult education teacher. Still feels like a sexy taboo to me,” he said with a wink and a smirk. I decided I’d already indulged this line of conversation far longer than I should have and stayed quiet.
    Stu took the folder back to his desk, and it was moments like these where I questioned my decision to seat him so close to me. To the front of the classroom. Only three feet away . . . from me. Shit. I really needed some distance between us or I was going to spontaneously combust. Watching him out of the corner of my eye, I saw him flick through the pages and wondered if he’d ever be brazen enough to use my email for a non-class related subject. Was there a part of me that wanted him to . . .?
    Nope, not going there.
    Once everybody had arrived, I stood to give the class a quick lesson in basic algebra. Mathematics wasn’t a main component of the course, as it was more literature and history based, but I did like to at least touch on everything to round out the experience. I handed out some worksheets, and they were all quiet as they completed it. I noticed even Stu was busy. It didn’t last long though, and after only a minute or two he set his pencil down and pushed the worksheet aside.
    I glanced at him, asking quietly, “Is everything okay? Do you need me to go over the equation with you again?”
    Stu shook his head. “Nah, I’m finished.”
    “You finished the entire worksheet?” I asked, my mouth falling open slightly. It typically took students twenty to thirty minutes to answer all ten questions.
    “Yeah, no offence but it was a piece of piss.”
    “Are you for real?” Susan whispered from the desk next to Stu’s. “I’m only on question two.”
    Stu shrugged. “I’m good at this sort of thing.”
    Susan shot him a jealous look then turned back to her own work. I rose from my seat and went to collect Stu’s worksheet. I felt him watching as I scanned the paper, stunned to find he was telling the truth. He’d completed the entire thing in less than five minutes and every single answer was correct.
    “Have you taken any maths lessons before?” I asked and he shook his head.
    “No, I’m mostly self-taught, but honestly, that worksheet is kids’ stuff. Why don’t I give you something harder ? Sorry, I mean, why don’t you give me ?” he replied, a grin on his face like he was baiting me.
    I didn’t rise to the innuendo, though it did make my mind momentarily wander. I imagined that had been his intention. Instead I went back to my desk and rifled through my drawer for a new worksheet, this one containing some fairly difficult quadratic equations.
    I handed it to him and he gave a little scoff as if to say, this all you got? Ignoring his attitude, I went and sat down again, all the while watching him work out of the corner of my eye. If anything, I was fascinated, especially considering how he used to do illegal accounts. If I could just get him to use his skill in a more productive way, there was no limit to what he could achieve after the course ended.
    Again he finished in record time and again I was flabbergasted by the accuracy of his work. Not a single answer wrong. Had I just found Stu’s subject? The only problem with him having a talent for equations was that I wasn’t equipped to teach him anything more than the basics. He was clearly on another level and would need someone more adept at the subject in order to be properly challenged.
    An idea niggled at me. My dad was a mathematics professor at King’s College here in London. I knew